


Tony Stark and the Sorcerer's Stone

by Emeraldsnows, RoseSquared



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hogwarts First Year, Kid Fic, Magic, pretty much exactly what it says on the tin, tony stark is harry potter, unapologetic reworking of an entire fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldsnows/pseuds/Emeraldsnows, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseSquared/pseuds/RoseSquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has never played sports on the ground, much less in the air on a broomstick. He's never worn a cloak of invisibility (yet, he's working on the technology), or helped hatch a dragon. All Tony knows is a miserable life with Obie, his father's business partner who makes Tony work for his meals. His room is a tiny storage room on the second floor and he hasn't been allowed to play outside in 11 years.<br/>But all that is about to change when a mysterious letter arrives by owl messenger inviting him to a school for magic. There he finds friends, and enemies, and a destiny bigger than he'd ever dreamed of.</p><p>Follow Tony Stark on his first year to Hogwarts!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Peggy Carter had not set foot in Hogwarts castle since she had graduated nearly five years ago. She’d never thought she would return so soon but there she was, storming up the stairs to the Headmaster’s office. Every other witch and wizard her age was out in the night, celebrating uproariously and drawing too much attention from the muggles but Peggy couldn’t bring herself to do the same, her heart weighed too heavy in her chest.

So instead, she slammed open the office door and marched in without invitation.

“Ah, Miss Carter,” Nicholas Fury greeted from where he sat behind his desk. Peggy’s heels clicked harshly on the stone floor as she marched forward. “Pleasant evening, isn’t it? There are reports of shooting stars over Kent that I’m fairly certain are Jubilation Lee’s fault. I’ve never been so glad that she’s no longer my responsibility.”

Peggy kept walking in, glaring at him, until she stood in front of his desk. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“What happened?” she asked, calmly swallowing down her anger.

Fury leaned back in his chair and regarded her innocently. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You said they would be safe,” Peggy snapped. “You promised Howard and Maria they would be safe and now they’re dead.”

“I am sorry things turned out this way,” Fury began but Peggy didn’t let him continue.

“Did you know this would happen?” she demanded. “You-Know-Who killed them but he couldn’t kill their son. He couldn’t bring himself to kill Tony, after everything he’s done, all the people he killed, he couldn’t kill Tony Stark and his powers broke. Did you know that would happen?”

“I know just as much as anyone else, Miss Carter,” Fury said simply and Peggy had never doubted him less. “As unfortunate as the circumstances are, this is a moment of celebration. The Red Skull is gone.” 

Peggy flinched at the name of the dark evil that had shadowed the wizarding world for the past 11 years, an evil she and her friends had all fought against. She wished she could celebrate the end of the war like everybody else but she had no one left to celebrate with.

“Where is Tony now?” she asked.

“Thor has picked him up from what remains of the Stark home,” Fury informed her.

She frowned. “Is it a good idea to trust him with something so important? He isn’t exactly known for his subtlety.”

“I would trust Thor with my life,” Fury said. Peggy didn’t find that reassuring.

“I want to take him home with me,” Peggy told him.

“That won’t be possible,” Fury said with a raised eyebrow.

“Why not?” Peggy asked.

“Plans have already been made for the boy,” Fury stated. “Professor Sitwell is currently explaining the situation to Howard’s business partner.”

“Stane?” Peggy questioned incredulously. “You can’t seriously think leaving Tony with that muggle is a good idea!”

“I hadn’t taken you for prejudiced,” Fury commented.

“I’m not. But Tony doesn’t even know him. He’s just lost his parents and you want to leave him with a complete stranger?”

“Please think about the situation, Miss Carter,” Fury advised. “Every person in our world knows what this boy has done. Those out there celebrating as well as those few who aren’t exactly benefiting from the Red Skull’s defeat.”

Peggy stiffened at the thinly veiled threat: that little Tony Stark could still be in danger. “He belongs with his family.”

“He belongs where he won’t be treated like a hero before he’s two years old. You may argue your point all you like, Miss Carter, but the decision has already been made. Tony Stark shall be raised in the muggle world, away from danger and fame until he is old enough to deal with it better. That is all I will say on the matter. Now, I hope you have a good evening. I hear there are some entertaining parties going on.”

He turned away from her then, a clear dismissal. Peggy bit down the urge to scream at him, to hit him or hex him or cry in front of him. She clenched her fists at her side before turning on her heel and storming right back out, her cloak whirling about behind her.

At the same time, miles away, where no one was celebrating and the night was quiet, a large, blond, muscle-bound man carried a warmly wrapped bundle up the walkway to a mansion. A single light was on inside the downstairs hall, weakly illuminating the well-manicured lawn. The man knocked on the front door, shaking it on its hinges. The bundle in his arms squirmed at the noise but didn’t wake up.

The door was opened by a short, bald man wearing wire-rimmed glasses and dull grey robes. His face was pinched and serious as he ushered the other man inside.

“Professor Sitwell,” the blond man greeted, wiping his large boots on the welcome mat.

“Thor, you made it,” Professor Sitwell said.

“Aye. I was able to collect young Anthony before the muggles stepped in. He fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol.”

“Flying?” Sitwell inquired.

Thor nodded and gestured back out to the driveway where a large motorcycle sat, gleaming in the yellow streetlights. “Steven Rogers allowed me the use of his flying motorcycle to aid in delivering Anthony to his new guardian.”

Sitwell nodded. “Very well, though I hope you weren’t seen. I’ve just finished updating Mr. Stane on the situation. He’s asked that we leave the boy with the night maid and then kindly piss off.”

“He sounds a charming man,” Thor commented dryly.

“He’s a prick, honestly,” Sitwell admitted. “But Fury’s orders.”

Thor nodded in understanding. He smiled at the woman who appeared from the shadows, a look of caution clear on her face. He carefully handed his bundle over to her. The blankets were shifted in the exchange, revealing a dark haired baby boy within. He remained asleep, his bare chest rising and falling evenly. The skin there was red and angry around an oddly shaped cut, geometric shapes wrapped within a circle. It was the only evidence of the tragedy he had suffered not even a full day ago.

Thor ran his fingers over the boy’s messy hair affectionately before bending over to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Fare well, little Anthony,” Thor whispered as the maid carried him away. He sniffed loudly as a few tears slipped from his eyes.

“Let’s go,” Sitwell said, putting a hand on Thor’s elbow. The taller man nodded and followed him back out into the night.

And while little Tony Stark was laid peacefully in a make-shift crib, there were people all over England raising glasses in his honor.

“To Tony Stark, the boy who lived!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is 100% the fault of the angst of the Agent Carter TV show. I wanted to write fix-it fic but couldn't get the timelines to work in my favor and somehow I came to the conclusion that I needed to rewrite the Harry Potter series as if Tony Stark was Harry Potter. I was not discouraged when I went to my friends because they are dirty, dirty enablers. One of them even decided to be my coauthor. Dirty, dirty enabler. 
> 
> And yes, we're nuts and rewriting the whole damn series. Look forward to more insanity in future.


	2. The Dissapearing Glass

Nearly ten years had passed since Obidiah Stane became the legal guardian of his late business partner’s son.

Nothing much had changed in the Stark mansion since then. It had been mostly unused before Obidiah had moved in, along with Tony, and the large house remained as perfect and empty as ever. The designer furniture was all in the exactly correct place. The famous paintings were hung perfectly straight. Nothing ever moved, nothing was allowed out of place, nothing was allowed to be dirty or messy. The many and vast halls were eerily quiet. No one would ever guess a child of any age lived there at all.

There was one room, small and tucked away in the furthest corner of the second floor, where there was evidence of a messy life. It wasn’t much more than a storage room off the side of the stairs, only large enough for a small bed and a desk. The bed sheets were plain, just solid colors without any sort of fanciful space theme or stylized cars. There weren’t any toys lying around, at least not in one piece. The desk and the floor were covered in dismantled tangles of brightly colored toy robots, circuit boards from old gaming systems, and several half finished electronic creations. Instead of posters on the walls there were blue prints and mock-ups of engines and machines. Not the typical room of a ten-year-old, but then Tony Stark wasn’t a typical boy.

He was slumped over his desk that morning, his face smashed into the crook of his elbow. Tony often fell asleep at his desk instead of in his bed after staying up most of the night tinkering and upgrading and ignoring the maids when they insisted he turn off the lights. He’d only managed to fall asleep a few hours earlier and he didn’t have much longer to rest.

Obie crashed open the door without knocking, sending it flying into the wall with a sharp bang. Tony jolted upright.

“Are you still asleep?” Obie demanded. Tony had only enough time to blink blearily at him before Obie continued. “Did you finish that new upgrade on the StarkPhone yet? I need it done before noon, we can’t have our competitors catching up with us, now can we?”

Tony tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, scratched his forehead with the screwdriver he hadn’t realized he was still holding. “Um… It’s almost done, I think. Just a few more bugs to work out.”

“Well, get a move on. If you want breakfast this morning, I expect it to be finished. And don’t forget, we’re going to a charity event this afternoon, do not fight the maids again when they send you to the bath, you need it, you’re a mess.”

Obie left before Tony could even respond, his face turned down, frowning like he always did whenever he had to tell Tony to hurry up.

Tony took a few seconds after Obie left before his mind snapped to attention. He scrambled out of his chair and stretched before reaching under his bed for his laptop. He brought up the newest of the StarkPhone files and waited while the program booted up. He knew he could iron out the rest of the kinks in the coding without much thought, which was why he’d stopped working on it all together last night and begun messing around with the mechanics of a simple robot that could move on its own.

He wasn’t in too much of a hurry to finish up the coding errors, fine tuning was always the boring part. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually eaten something other than crackers and he was starting to feel the constant twist of his empty stomach getting worse. Of course, the sooner he finished his assignment, the sooner he would have to go to the stupid charity photo op he was sure he didn’t want to go to anyway. Cameras and paparazzi always swarmed him anytime he so much as left the mansion. He couldn’t really blame them. After all, he was the genius son of a dead multibillionaire, he made for a very interesting source of gossip.

Especially since Obie tried to keep Tony away from the spotlight as much as possible. Tony had a serious heart condition, he’d say, evidenced by the strangely blue, circular scar in the center of his chest. Obie told him his parents had died in a very serious car crash and Tony had been the only one to survive. His harness had caused compression injuries, though, and his heart had been weak ever since. He was too sickly to be out in the public eye all the time.

That’s why Tony had spent most of his short life in his family’s home, with private tutors and staff all hand picked by Obie to be quiet and unobtrusive. They all moved in and out of his life quickly, no one ever stayed for long. Tony’s propensity for misbehaving didn’t really help. And after a while, Tony didn’t even need the tutors, he was able to teach himself college-level physics and mathematics while they kept trying to sit him down for boring history lessons. He knew enough on his own to keep building things for his dad’s company, that was all he really needed anyway. He didn’t need to go outside. He had everything he needed in his bedroom.

But Tony knew he would have to go out that afternoon. Stark Industries and Hammer Tech were both giving substantial, competing donations to the local zoo to improve their child education programs or something; Tony hadn’t really been paying attention when Obie told him about it earlier that week. All it meant was the heirs to both technological giants would need to show their faces and take smiling photos with animals and, unfortunately, each other.

That was the absolute worst part. Tony really hated Justin Hammer, the media’s golden boy and perfect son. Even though his products were laughably subpar compared to Tony’s inventions from five years ago, he was annoyingly charming and happy and people just loved to see him out and about doing whatever it was rich little kids did. Well, other rich kids. Tony worked.

He worked a lot. There was always a new project or an idea that Obie had him tinkering with or testing or creating all on his own. If he wasn’t working, he was catching up on what sleep he could so he could have projects finished by Obie’s deadlines. Obie had very strict rules on those, letting Tony know in no uncertain terms that there was no such thing as a free meal. As long as everything was sent out successfully on schedule, Tony could have whatever he wanted. New clothes, books, toys, games, and meals were delivered to his room when he was keeping up with Obie’s schedule. But Tony got distracted, sometimes, and started in on his own projects that very rarely had anything to do with what Obie wanted, and he fell behind. And that’s when all the nice things like new tools and food went away until he got back on track.

“We need to keep out all these distractions, Tony,” Obie would say, disappointed and angry. “You know your father always got everything in on time, it was no problem for him, it shouldn’t be for you.”

He was always comparing Tony to his father. According to Obie, Howard never missed a deadline or a meeting, never disobeyed or acted out, never complained, and why couldn’t Tony be more like him? Tony hated it, hated his dad because of it, even though he’d never actually met the man. He just knew the stories, the legends of how his father had started Stark Industries from nothing and within a few short years turned it into the premier electronics company in England and very quickly the world. Howard hadn’t let up there, though, he kept pushing and creating new and exciting things to help the world. He’d eventually brought on Obie to help him run the business side of things so he could focus more on the engineering and technological development side. Together they had changed the way the world used technology, amassing an ever growing fortune. Until the car accident that killed him and his wife.

So of course, as soon as Tony was old enough to figure out how to take things apart and put them back together better, Obie had started trying to mold him into shape to fill the hole Howard had left behind.

Tony silently stewed over it all while his fingers blindly typed out the proper code. He didn’t even notice that hours had passed until a maid came barging into his room.

“Mr. Stane would like to know if you’ve completed your task,” she asked.

“Just about.” Tony didn’t look up from the screen. “A few more lines and it should be-“ he drifted off as he caught sight of the last little mistake and set about correcting it.

“Done!” He finally looked up and grinned triumphantly. “All finished and ready to send to R&D.”

The maid nodded distractedly, looking around his room and wringing her hands like the mess made her anxious. “Very well, then hurry up and get ready. You’re expected to be at the zoo in an hour.”

“No problem.” Tony lazily rolled off of  his bed and stretched his back. He followed her out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. The shower was already running, steam fogging up the mirror. The maid tried to follow him in but he shut and locked the door quickly behind him. He was 10 years old, for crying out loud, he didn’t need someone watching over him in the shower.

Since Tony wasn’t allowed out very often, Obie wasn’t overly concerned with making sure he bathed regularly. That suited Tony perfectly fine, he didn’t care very much what he looked like and the oil grease that always seemed to collect in his hair after a few days helped to keep it out of his eyes. The maids were less ok with it, since they were the ones stuck brushing it out after what could be weeks of build up. Tony didn’t know why they bothered. His hair never seemed to stay down, much to Obie’s disappointment. Obie made sure that Tony looked perfectly pressed and polished whenever they were in public, just like a young billionaire should, but Tony’s hair did not want to cooperate. No matter how much brushing and styling the maids did, within minutes of walking out the door it was a mess and not the stylish, artfully crafted bedhead mess people advertised in magazines. It didn’t matter how long his hair was, or what type of product was in it, or even if Obie had it professionally done, his hair refused to lie flat and it annoyed Obie to no end.

Once they were in the limo on the way to the zoo, it was time for the Lecture. Anytime Tony went outside the Stark mansion, Obie made sure to coach him on how he should behave. Act professionally. Smile at the cameras but don’t let it seem fake. Be cordial to everyone who wanted to talk to him, yes even Hammer. And above all else, no funny business.

That was the most important rule. Sometimes, really strange things just happened around Tony, things that shouldn’t be possible. Once, during a photoshoot for a magazine cover, the stylist insisted they shave all of Tony’s hair, because it was too wild and the “homeless person look was so three years ago.” It took hardly any time at all for it to grow back, even more unruly than before. In the end, they’d just photoshopped it and Obie had locked him in his room with nothing but work for three days.

Another time, he’d been sequestered to his room for two months when he was found on the roof of the national museum. He’d been hiding in the garden, trying to stay away from Justin Hammer and the bustling reporters, when Hammer and his cronies had found him, trying to make him join them in whatever stupid stunt they were planning. He was just wishing that he could get away from them and enjoy his few hours of freedom when the next thing he knew, he was on the roof. The flashbulbs were already going off from the ground by the time Tony had reoriented himself. It didn’t take much longer for the roof access door to open and he was being escorted back to the limo. Obie was very much not happy when the pictures made the front page the next day instead of the story about SI’s new laptop computers.

And other small things. All of the glasses at the table he was sat at during a boring party shattering. A particularly annoying reporter tripping over his tied together shoelaces after harassing Tony for too long, even though Tony hadn’t ever left his seat. Anything electronic he showed too much interest in spitting up sparks or falling apart before he even touched them.

It didn’t take much for Tony to realize it all had something to do with him, even if he had no idea how.

But today, Tony was determined that nothing was going to go wrong. He was getting out of the house, he was going to go to the zoo, a normal kid kind of thing to do. Even if he did have to make nice with the press. And Hammer. It was going to be a good day.

It started off with a tour of the zoo, to see exactly what their money was going to be used for. The zoo director made sure to thank Obie and Tony, as well as the Hammer family, every five minutes during his lengthy explanations about the planned improvements for the animals and the community as a whole.

It was all really very boring.

It was still the best time Tony had had in a very long time. The fresh air was nice and cool on his face and if he lagged a bit behind to get a better look at the animals, no one said anything. His heart condition probably made it difficult for him to keep up a very fast pace.

By the time they made it to the Reptile House, everyone was starting to lag. The group split up then to look through the many halls of slithery, scaly creatures, the press following the adults with their flashing cameras. The director kept Obie and the Hammers distracted with a discussion on something or other and Tony was able to get away on his own, no adults or reporters or anybody.

So of course, that’s when Justin Hammer finally got a hold of him.

“Hey, Stark, haven’t seen you in a while.” Justin smirked down at him. He was two years older and several inches taller than Tony.

“Yes, the Stark Industries Christmas party wasn’t nearly long enough ago,” Tony replied, trying to move away towards one of the largest enclosures.

“So I was talking with my father about setting up some sort of get together for us,” Justin said, like he expected Tony to care enough to pay attention. “You could come over to the mansion, I’ll show you all of the cool stuff we’ve been working on together, maybe give you some tips on how to improve your own stuff when you’re old enough to start building things.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, when I want to run the company into the ground I’ll definitely take you up on that. Now go bug your mummy or something, you’re boring me.”

Justin pouted at him and ran off back towards his parents, probably to tattle that Tony was being rude. Tony really didn’t care. He turned his attention to the huge snake curled up on a rock behind the glass enclosure, looking utterly bored.

“I get it,” Tony told it with a sigh. “I get stared at all day too. It gets old.”

The snake turned its head to regard him and nodded in agreement.

Tony frowned at it. He must be more tired than he thought. “Can you hear me?”

The snake nodded again.

He grinned excitedly. “Cool. Do you do that often? Talk to people?”

The snake shook its head.

“You’re not missing much, trust me,” Tony said, glancing back over his shoulder where Hammer had disappeared. The snake flicked its tongue out. “So where are you from?”

The boa slithered forward off its rock to point at the informational plaque below the glass. BOA CONSTRICTOR, BRAZIL.

“I bet it was nice there, no one watching you all the time,” Tony commented.

The snake nodded towards the sign again. Tony kept reading- Born in captivity.

“So you’ve never been free?” Tony asked.

The snake shook its head, raising itself up to look Tony in the eye.

“I can relate to that. I was born in captivity too. Stuck inside all of the time-“

“MUMMY! DADDY! Look at that snake, you won’t believe what it’s doing!” Hammer came rushing up, painfully shoving Tony aside with his elbow and pushing him to the floor. He started banging on the window to get the snakes attention. Git.

The banging stopped when the glass suddenly vanished and Hammer went face first into the enclosure.

The next thing Tony knew, the snake had slithered out and the glass was back, trapping Hammer inside. The idiot was screaming his head off and drawing the attention of everybody in the building while the snake curled happily around Tony’s feet.

“Thanks,” it whispered in his ear while Tony laughed at Hammer’s desperate flailing. **  
**

He stopped laughing as soon as Obie stood over him, frown firmly in its usual place. “Get up and keep smiling. We’re going home.”

Obie kept a tight grip on his arm while he made nice to the zoo employees, reassuring them that Tony was unharmed despite having a giant snake wound about him. They left while the employees were still fishing Justin out of the snake enclosure, his mother screaming herself into his hysterics.

“What happened?” Obie demanded as soon as they were safely tucked away in the limo. **  
**

“I don’t know,” Tony insisted. “One minute the glass was there and the next it was gone. It was like magic.”

Obie sighed, frustrated. “For the last time, Tony, there is no such thing as magic. You can’t keep using that as an excuse every time you misbehave.”

Obie always called it misbehaving when things went weird around him. Tony just shrugged, he didn’t have a better explanation. The rest of the trip was a very thick silence and once they got back home, Obie just point in the direction of Tony’s room. Tony trudged up the front staircase and made it to his room, still trying to figure out what could have happened to the glass to make it vanish and reappear so quickly.

Much later, while taking a break from pouring over the seemingly impossible physics of the problem at his desk, Tony munched on a bag of chips pilfered directly from the kitchen when no one was awake. He thought on his life with Obie. It was predictable, like a good math problem. In a few days, Obie would let him out of his room and give him a stack of new projects to work on. As soon as he finished them and maybe added on a few new inventions on top of them, he’d be back in Obie’s good graces and he’d have new books and tools and steady meals again.

Tony Stark didn’t know any other kind of life. He didn’t remember his parents at all. He used to try, late at night, when he couldn’t sleep past the constant commotion that was his mind, tried to remember what they looked like or sounded like but all he ever remembered were vague flashes from the car accident. A blinding flash of green and pain in his chest. Nothing else. And Obie never talked about his mother, only ever mentioned how much better Howard was then Tony at something.

Tony used to dream that someone would come and take him away from his boring life locked away from the world but by now, he knew no one was ever coming for him. He would spend the rest of his life working for Obie and making new Starktech to make him happy.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who has read and reviewed so far. We're really excited to hear what you all think so please keep commenting :)


	3. Letters From No One

After the incident with the boa constrictor, Obie left Tony locked in his room longer than he ever had before. Tony was given a new project every day and expected to finish them if he wanted his dinner. He cranked out so many upgrades and new inventions, he barely even noticed how many months passed by.

He did notice when the school year ended. He marked the date on his calendar every year, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. It was just a reminder that he’d spent another year without friends.

Who needed friends, though, when he could build his own? Between Obie’s assignments, what few precious hours he had to himself- when he should probably be sleeping- Tony had begun plans for a simple AI. He just needed something that could give him an extra hand, hold a soldering iron while he moved wires around or fetch a tool across the (admittedly tiny) room. He understood the basics, found plenty of articles on the baby steps students at MIT had taken; it couldn’t be that hard to show them all up.

He really needed to get a more comfortable chair for his desk, Tony thought fuzzily as he slowly woke up from his latest attempt at an all-nighter. He yawned as he pushed himself upright. A tapping at his window made him pause and glance over.

There was an owl sitting on the windowsill.

Tony rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Yep, that was, in fact, an owl in broad daylight. It pecked at his window again.

“Hold on a sec,” Tony said, scrambling to his feet. He quickly opened the window and the owl swooped in, nearly knocking Tony over with its large wings. It perched on the edge of his desk, messing up the already disorganized stack of notes there. It held out a foot and Tony noticed an envelope tied to it with leather cords.

“Is that for me?” Tony asked, dumbfounded. The owl hooted and ruffled its feathers. “Who sends mail by owl? Seriously, there’s this new thing called email, people, so much faster and no creepy birds that won’t stop staring at me.”

The owl just blinked and Tony had the distinct impression he was being judged. He cautiously reached out for the owl’s leg.

“Don’t bite,” he warned, untying the envelope. As soon as it was free of its burden, the owl took off again. One of its wings clipped the back of Tony’s head as it effortlessly glided back out the window. Tony watched after it until it disappeared into the clouds. Then he turned his attention to the envelope in his hand.

It was a letter, addressed in shimmering green ink on heavy parchment.

_Mr. T. Stark_

_The Second Floor Storage Closet_

_Stark Mansion_

There was no return address. It was held shut with a strange purple wax seal featuring a letter H surrounded by a lion, a snake, an eagle… and was that a badger?

“Weird fan mail,” Tony commented to himself and opened the letter anyway.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Nicholas Fury (Order of Merlin, first class)_

_Dear Mr. Stark,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Maria Hill (Deputy Headmistress)_

What? Tony frowned and looked back up at the window, half expecting the owl to come back and explain things. Or someone to pop up and exclaim it was all a prank. Neither happened and Tony was left standing alone in his room, clutching the strangest letter he’d ever received.

Was this even real? Obie told him all the time, there’s no such thing as magic. Tony studied science, he knew that all phenomena could be explained. Except, well… he still didn’t know how glass could vanish and reappear in less than a minute. And all the other weird crap that happened around him all the time. He’d said every time, it was just like magic…

A knock at the door made Tony jump out of his thoughts.

“Mister Stark, are you awake?” a maid called through the door.

“Yes!” Tony answered, instinctively stuffing the letter under his rumpled bed sheets. The maid poked her head into the room and smiled gently at him. He didn’t recognize her and vaguely realized Obie must have rotated out the old ones.

“Mister Stane asks that you join him for breakfast,” she informed him.

Tony nodded. He quickly changed out of the clothes he’d fallen asleep in. After a moment’s hesitation, he stuffed the letter into his pocket. The maid might throw it out if he left it in his bed. And maybe Obie would be able to explain what it was talking about.

Tony was cautious as he made his way down to the dining hall. He wasn’t sure if Obie was still mad about the whole snake incident. He’d seen the headlines the day after, all of them blaming Tony for releasing the snake, laughing in every photo. Meals with Obie usually meant Tony was in for a very long lecture, but hey, at least he could eat during it.

Obie was already sitting at the head of the table, sipping at a cup of coffee and reading the paper. It masked Obie’s face so Tony tried to sneak quietly by. It didn’t make a difference, of course, but Tony was at least able to start in on a plate of eggs and bacon before Obie flattened the paper on the table in front of him and pin him with a stern look.

“We’ll be leaving for the summer villa tomorrow,” Obie said. Tony perked up a bit at that. The summer villa meant three whole months out in the country with fewer social obligations and absolutely no chance of running into Hammer. It meant Tony would have more time to work on his personal projects; maybe he’d be able to finish his little AI before the summer ended.

And the summer villa meant getting to see Rhodey.

Rhodey was the head of security’s grandson and while old man Rhodes was as unbearable as any other adult in Tony’s life, Rhodey was probably the closest Tony had to an actual friend, even if he was a stick in the mud. They always spent the few months of summer together, avoiding the adults and getting into all kinds of trouble. Then Rhodey would go back to school and neither of them would hear from each other until the next summer.

“Will we be back by September 1?” Tony asked.

Obie frowned at him. “What’s happening September 1?”

“I have to go to school,” Tony replied.

“Oh really?” Obie’s eyebrow rose skeptically.

Tony nodded and pulled the letter out of his pocket, handing it over. Obie’s face twisted into a scowl, growing redder and redder as he read the letter.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded.

“An owl,” Tony said with a shrug, like there wasn’t anything unusual about it.

Obie scoffed and crumpled the letter into a ball. “This is absolute nonsense, Tony. A prank or something. You’re not well enough to go to school, Tony, you know that.”

Tony nodded, kicking his foot against the leg of his chair.

“Now finish your breakfast and get your things ready to leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony’s eyes never left the crumpled ball of parchment at Obie’s elbow.

.:.

Tony woke the next morning to the sound of tapping. He sprang up from his bed (where he’d managed to fall asleep for once) and looked to the window. There wasn’t an owl in sight and Tony’s heart sank as he realized the tapping was coming from the door.

“Come in,” Tony called, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. It was the new maid from yesterday who hadn’t learned that she could invade Tony’s personal space whenever she wanted, like everyone else did. She’d figure it out before she was rotated out. They always did.

“Good morning, Mister Stark,” she said with a smile. “Are you ready for your trip?”

Tony nodded and waved vaguely to where his bag sat in his desk chair. He only ever packed the basics of his latest projects. There was a lab set up at the villa and old man Rhodes always made sure there were clothes for him to last the summer.

“Very good,” the maid said, bustling about his room. “Change into some new clothes, not those things you’ve slept in, they’re far too wrinkled. Mister Stane is waiting for you downstairs and he expects you to look like a proper gentleman.”

Already bossier and judgy than yesterday, Tony noted. He did as she said because the sooner he was dressed, the sooner they would be on their way. He wondered how many other kids had to dress in uncomfortable, fancy clothes for a trip out to the countryside.

He was just rounding the corner to descend the stairs, hastily buttoning up the last button on his shirt, when he caught the tail end of Obie barking orders at the butler.

“-don’t accept any letters from that damn cult. Burn anything that arrives here while we’re gone. He doesn’t need to follow his father’s footsteps into all that weirdness.”

What? Tony peeked over the banister and saw Obie shredding familiar yellow parchment into tiny pieces. Another letter must have been delivered.

Obie was moody the entire drive to the summer villa. Tony was very careful not to say anything or move at all, just staring out the window and ignoring the pinch and tingle in his legs as they slowly went numb. It felt longer than forever before they were pulling into the front gate.

Old Man Rhodes was standing at the front door, his hand firmly clamped on his grandson’s shoulder.

“Mister Stane, Tony,” he greeted. He always smelled like mothballs. “James, help Tony with his things, don’t make a sick boy strain himself.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhodey said, rolling his eyes as Tony eagerly handed his bag over. With all the trouble Tony got them into, Rhodey strongly doubted Tony was as sick as the grown ups always made him out to be. But he was ever obedient when given orders and Tony delighted in taking advantage of that.

It took no time at all for the both of them to escape the house. Tony was never allowed to play outside except here, where the fresh air filled his lungs and the sun warmed his skin. He and Rhodey spent the day climbing trees, running around, and all around acting like the boys they were until Old Man Rhodes called them in for dinner.

And after, in Rhodey’s bedroom instead of his own, Tony sprawled across his friend’s bed and asked, “Do you believe in magic?”

Rhodey blinked at him, startled. “What are you talking about?”

“Magic,” Tony insisted, waving his hands in the air above him. “You know, like weird things that people can’t explain, unicorns, dragons, that kind of stuff.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be too old for stuff like that?” Rhodey countered, shifting around in his blankets.

“I guess.” Tony sighed. “There’s some crazy stuff out there, Rhodey.”

“You’re one of them,” Rhodey scoffed.

Tony held a hand over his heart. “You hurt me, honey bear.”

“You know I hate that nickname,” Rhodey grumbled, crossing his arms. Tony just grinned at him.

“I’ve been getting weird letters lately,” Tony said. He stared up at the ceiling. “Not the usual weird, like the creepy fan ones. It said I’m supposed to go to a magic school.”

Rhodey was quiet for a bit before, “That’d be cool. You know, if stuff like that was real.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. They didn’t say anything more that night, both of them drifting off to sleep in Rhodey’s bed.

.:.

Obie was muttering to himself by the fireplace the next morning, slowly tossing in four parchment letters. Rhodey and Tony watched from their hiding place down the hall.

“What’s that all about?” Rhodey asked.

“The letters I told you about,” Tony explained. “They drive Obie insane.”

Rhodey frowned. “Why?”

“I think they might have something to do with my dad,” Tony said. “I heard Obie say something before we left for here.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “I just wish he’d let me get a good look at those letters again.”

They both looked at each other, a spark of mischief flashing in Tony’s eyes.

“We’re going to get in trouble over this, aren’t we?” Rhodey sighed, resigned.

“Only if we get caught,” Tony said, already plotting.

.:.

Boarding up the mail slot didn’t stop the letters from coming. Tony wanted to point out how dumb the idea was anyway, since the letter could just be left on the front stoop, but Obie was starting to act a little crazed and so he kept his comments for Rhodey’s ears only.

Five letters came in with the morning milk the next day.

A dozen more letters came the day after, folded neatly _inside_ their newly purchased eggs, much to the distress of the chef.

Tony was pretty sure Obie was going to have a stroke.

.:.

The final straw came on a Saturday, when Obie brought Tony along to a small luncheon of board members and their families. There hadn’t been any letters. That day, much to Tony and Rhodey’s disappointment and Obie’s obvious relief. He was practically giddy as he swept Tony into the open rose garden where tables had been set for tea and sandwiches. Rhodey hadn’t been allowed to attend and Tony tried not to sulk to openly when a couple of old ladies started fawning over him.

“You know, you look just like your father,” the one on the left said. He barely kept from rolling his eyes. Everyone told him that.

“Have you been doing well in school?” the one on the right asked. They looked exactly alike, down to the ugly flower patterns on their dresses.

“Oh silly, you know he doesn’t attend school,” Left admonished. “His _condition.”_

She whispered as if that would prevent Tony from hearing her.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s simply because he’s far too smart for classes,” Right reassured. “Have you made any new toys lately, Tony darling? My grandson was rather taken with your last little gadget.”

Tony opened his mouth to answer her, knowing full well she had next to no actual interest in what he had to say, when a letter fell into his lap. He looked up and saw an owl swooping away.

“Goodness gracious!” Left and Right exclaimed in surprise.

Another letter landed on the table, right in the middle of the finger sandwiches. A third fell in someone’s soup at the next table, causing a shout.

In a blink, a swarm of owls was swooping low over everyone gathered, dropping letters randomly. Ladies ran screaming, covering their heads while some of the men swung at the owls to fend them off. Tony couldn’t keep from laughing as an owl relieved itself midair, right over Left’s shoulder.

Chaos still rained around him when Obie’s hand grabbed him roughly by the back of his neck and Tony froze.

.:.

“We’re leaving for a few days,” Obie told Old Man Rhodes as he bundled Tony into an inconspicuous black sedan. “Laying low until this freaky stalker goes away.”

It was the middle of the night and Tony didn’t even get a chance to wave goodbye to Rhodey before Obie drove off.

.:.

Lying low apparently meant holing up in a sleazy hotel room, far beneath the decadent penthouses and suites Obie preferred to stay in. There was only a single bedroom, which Obie claimed for himself as soon as the door was locked and bolted behind them. He was quick to grab all of the small bottles of alcohol from the mini fridge under the TV before disappearing for the rest of the night. Tony was left with the ratty, stained couch and a moth eaten comforter.

He didn’t bother reminding Obie that his birthday was tomorrow.

Instead, Tony curled up on the couch, careful to avoid the worst of the stains, blanket around his shoulders, and continued fiddling with the beginnings of his little AI driven robot. Every once in a while, he would glance up from the bundle of wires in his lap to the clock hanging on the wall. He looked up more frequently as the hours ticked by until he was simply staring at it five minutes before midnight.

He’d never experienced a birthday without an extravagant party with dozens of people he didn’t know, much less liked. His birthday was never _his_ , like they were supposed to be in movies and books. At least the presents were interesting, whenever they weren’t just giant donations given to one foundation or another in his honor.

This would be the first birthday he wouldn’t stay up with Rhodey. Obie had dragged him so far into the middle of nowhere Tony didn’t have the cell phone reception to message him, even if Old Man Rhodes had allowed Rhodey to have a phone.

Less than five minutes and Tony could hear the faint sound of people shuffling about down the hall.

Three minutes and feet stomping rudely closer.

Two minutes and… they’d stopped just outside the door.

One minute and Tony held his breath.

The clock struck midnight without even a chime.

Someone knocked thunderously on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Sorry we've been so slow with updates, we flip back and forth between chapters and I (emeraldsnows) recently found that having to jobs, while financially sound, sucks balls and is absolutely exhausting. Things have changed for the better though, so hopefully chapters won't go so long without updating. Next one is on rosesquared!


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